


I can't look at the stars

by spookywoods



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookywoods/pseuds/spookywoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles sends the text, "This supernatural playground just isn't the same without you." </p><p>And Derek receives it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I can't look at the stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens late at night when I listen to the same song over and over again. Unbeta'd.

The first time it happens, Stiles doesn’t even acknowledge it. It’s sort of just a passing thought in the background of his racing mind as he heads into the grocery store. A black Camaro parked out front, windows rolled down. He passes right by it and grabs a cart, rushing inside trying to remember his mental list.

It’s mostly frozen foods and packaged veggies in his bags when he heads out of the store and careens his neck back at the black sports car. His first thought is _Derek_ , and then _Oh, no, he sold it for a the FJ Cruiser._ And it’s only when he starts walking back to his jeep, that it hits him. Derek’s not even in town anymore.  

He doesn’t give it another thought and gets distracted by a text from Lydia. By the time he’s driving away, he doesn’t even remember the whole thing happened at all.

The second time, Stiles isn’t alone. He’s tagging along with Scott and Isaac as they search the multitude of abandoned buildings, apparently looking for remnants of the alphas or new supernatural activity. He’s not sure if they’re serious or just bored, but he’s emphatically against it, arguing that they don’t need to go looking for trouble because it usually seems to find them just fine. In all honesty, he’s annoyed with them as they sniff, track, and share their findings amongst their werewolf selves, ignoring the human, the one person who actually read the bestiary.

He cracks a joke that Beacon Hills should subsidize supernatural small businesses to revitalize the abandoned areas of town. It gets no response from his companions. _Not even an eyeroll,_ he thinks. _Derek would’ve given me an eyeroll._

And then Stiles finds himself absentmindedly thinking of the former alpha. Was he one to patrol? _He did enjoy a good lurk_ , Stiles smiles. But he shakes himself out of it, because Derek’s just gone, _he’s not dead._ And that thought gives him a weird feeling in his stomach. Because for all he knows, Derek could be dead.

When he’s staring at his ceiling two nights later, it happens again. Stiles can’t stop thinking about everything that Derek lost--his first love, his innocence, his family at the hands of his crazy hunter girlfriend. And then, just when Derek thought the injustice of the world was over, Peter kills Laura and he has to deal with the fallout of that--he has to kill Peter.

Stiles lays there and rehashes the whole Kanima debacle next, and by the time he’s picturing Boyd’s lifeless corpse, Stiles’ cheeks are wet with tears. He can’t move. All he can do is wonder how Derek is still breathing. Because when Stiles thinks of his own loss, the death of his mom, he can’t fathom anything worse. His chest tightens, his breathing becomes erratic. The loss is physical. The death of one person in his life completely gutted him. Yet he knows that no matter where Derek turns, death has followed. And he can’t understand how he’s still breathing. He just can’t.

The next morning he jolts awake and grabs for his phone. He types out the text before he changes his mind.

**_This supernatural playground just isn’t the same without you._ **

He sends it and goes to shower.

 _It isn’t fair,_ he thinks, that Derek has to lose Beacon Hills and everyone in it, too. And as Stiles steps out of the shower, he thinks how unfair it is that he has to lose Derek.

And he doesn’t know what to do with that.

 

* * *

 

Derek wouldn’t say he’s basking, but he’s definitely sprawled out on the dock enjoying the mid afternoon sunlight and light breeze with a slight smile. He can hear the water splashing against the shore, under the dock, all around, and it’s suddenly the most soothing sound he’s ever heard.

He’s actually relaxing, something he can’t even remember doing. A part of him thinks he should be staying alert, listening, observing, making sure nothing is out there waiting to attack him at his weakest. _My weakest,_ he thinks. He already hit rock bottom. _This is like coming up for air._

There are no werewolves—nothing the least bit supernatural—out here. No crazy uncles, homicidal lizards, or alpha packs. No alphas at all. Not even him. The thought comforts him more than it probably should, but if he’s honest with himself, it’s like a weight has been lifted. He’s right back where he was before the return to Beacon Hills.

_Alone._

“Derek!”

He jolts up and turns toward the splashing at the end of the dock. “Stiles?”

“Hey there frowny,” comes the reply. And when Derek bends over the edge, the sight stops him in his tracks. Stiles’ hair is soaking wet and slicked back, dripping down his face. Dark eyelashes patched together frame the warm amber eyes staring up at him. “I’ve been waiting forever. What are you doing up there? Working on a tan?” A smile creeps across his face and Derek can’t help but stare at his Stiles’ mouth.

“I’m not even—” but before he finishes, Stiles’ hand has already wrapped around his forearm and pulled him into the water.

It’s a cold, shocking rush, but it floors him. He surfaces with a smile, and glares at Stiles. “Oh really?” he says.

“Shit,” Stiles breathes, and frantically swims away.

“Resistance is futile,” Derek shouts as he takes his time going after him. He smiles again, and it’s starting to feel less foreign. He takes slow strokes forward, enjoys the feel of the water against his skin, and can’t remember the last time he did anything like it just for the fun of it. When he finally catches up to Stiles, Derek goes under and grabs his legs, pulling him beneath the surface.

And for a split second, a flash from the pool hits him like a ton of bricks. He lets Stiles go, and they come up.

“Uh, hate you,” Stiles laughs and spits out some water.

“Werewolf.” Derek manages to get out, but he can’t shake the memory of Stiles clinging to him for hours, but he can’t remember how it felt. _You were paralyzed,_ he reminds himself. “You’re not so bad yourself though, if I remember.”

Stiles swims closer. “If you’re referring to the time I saved your life when the Kanima was trying to kill you, I have to say, you’d be surprised what I’m capable of when someone I—” but he stops and stares wide-eyed at Derek. He breaks the gaze and continues, “When someone’s in trouble.”

“That’s not the first time I was in trouble and you helped me,” Derek thinks aloud. And suddenly he sees Stiles, actually sees him, and the realization of what Stiles is comes crashing all around him. He’s someone Derek trusts, inherently, physically, emotionally, and the thought cripples him.

And then he’s under the water, sinking, being pulled from the light and from Stiles and back into—

“Derek!”

He opens his eyes. He’s in the Cruiser, and Cora’s slowly waving a coffee in his face.

“Bro, it’s time to get back on the interstate,” she says. He nods slowly and takes the coffee. Glancing down at the clock, he sees that he slept for three and half hours. Better than last night, he sighs inwardly. His sister managed to get some halfway decent gas station food. Before he knows it, he’s wide awake and stopped at a light to the on-ramp, fed and caffeinated and ready for another four or five hundred miles.

Something tugs at him when he thinks of the distance he’s put between himself and Beacon Hills. He glances down and sees his phone blinking. When he unlocks it, his breath hitches, and he has to blink to make sure he’s really seeing it.

A text from _Senor Awesome._

**_This supernatural playground just isn’t the same without you._ **

And Derek doesn’t know quite what to do with that as he puts his phone down and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote the first part while listening to Grace Potter's "Stars". It inspired the title. 
> 
> Wrote the second part while listening to Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know". 
> 
> It kind of shows.


End file.
